


Keeping Up Appearances

by RuArcher (Coriesocks)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Getting Together, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Jealousy, M/M, Minor Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Swearing, jealous Blaise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coriesocks/pseuds/RuArcher
Summary: Blaise starts to notice Neville for the first time, but he's not prepared to deal with what this means. Luckily his friends have more sense than he does.





	

Blaise strode through the halls of the castle, destination firmly in mind. He knew who he was looking for, and he knew where he would, in all probability find him, but he had absolutely no idea what he would do when he found him.

“Damn you, Draco” he muttered under his breath. “Why on earth did I agree to this ridiculous wild crup chase?” He continued, before reminding himself that he did not, in fact, agree to anything but rather was tricked into compliance. Not that it was necessarily a bad thing. Someone had to put an end to Draco’s ceaseless pining over the boy-who-lived, and it might as well be him. At the very least, once he was successful in his mission, Draco would owe him one very big favour.

He paused briefly before exiting the castle, looked up at the sky to judge the chance of getting drenched (a distinct possibility in Scotland no matter what the time of year), and then shivered as a biting gust of wind caused his robe to billow out from him. It was unseasonably chilly for early October and the sky was thick with heavy, grey, clouds, making it feel like dusk was falling even earlier than usual. Blaise hastily cast a warming charm and then stepped out from the meagre shelter of the doorway. He had covered perhaps half the distance between the castle and the greenhouses before the first fat drops of rain started to fall from the sky. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you, Draco.” He growled, as he picked up his pace. If anyone were to ask, he would have said he was striding purposefully toward his destination, and most definitely not trotting, jogging, or Salazar forbid, running. Zabini’s did not run. Not for anyone. But they could march very, very quickly if needs must. 

The greenhouses loomed over him, looking almost sinister in the fading light. Blaise hurriedly ducked into the door of the first one he came to. As he slid the door closed behind him, the steady patter of raindrops became a solid wall of water and Blaise said a quiet thank you to whichever deity had prevented him from getting absolutely soaked to his skin. With any luck, the rain would exhaust itself before he had to return to the castle, or he would be spending a very cold, miserable evening surrounded by dirt and vicious greenery. 

He rubbed his hands over his face and hair to dislodge any lingering moisture, then patted down his robes to straighten them out and shake off excess water. Thankfully the rain hadn’t gotten him too wet since his success with drying charms was sketchy at best. As much as he didn’t want to accidentally set his clothes on fire, he would have been prepared to risk it if he’d been too soggy. 

Blaise turned to survey the greenhouse in which he had ended up. Rows upon rows of short, leafy plants filled every available surface. As he bent closer to inspect one, it’s leaves quivered ominously so he backed up and hurried towards the door in the far side. At least whoever had laid out the greenhouses had had the foresight to link them with sheltered walkways so he wouldn’t have to venture back out into the downpour. Silver linings, he thought to himself. 

He finally located his target in the fourth greenhouse he entered. Erring on the side of caution, as he’d done in the previous greenhouses he’d entered, he paused after sliding the door shut behind him and scrutinised his surroundings in order to gauge the threat of the plant life. He immediately spotted Neville Longbottom, clearly recognisable even from behind by his dark mop of hair, tall muscular frame (when had that happened?) and ridiculously unfashionable, hideously patterned tank top. He appeared to be deep in conversation with two other students; a couple of Hufflepuffs, judging by the robes, but Blaise could barely recall their names, let alone their faces. The small group were tucked away in the far corner of the greenhouse, huddled over what looked like some flower pots filled with dirt, and no one gave any indication of having noticed his entrance. 

Blaise straightened his posture, threw his shoulders back, and strode confidently towards them, while attempting to avoid various bits of plant that protruded into the walkway between the benches. He was about to clear his throat so that he could alert the group to his presence, but as he brought his hand to his mouth (there is no excuse for dropping manners, even for a fake cough), he knocked a tendril that was dangling out of a planter beside him. Upon contact, the tendril jolted and stretched towards him, curling around his arm and snaking up towards his chest. The polite cough morphed into a strangled yelp and his eyes snapped wide in fear as he tried, and failed, to separate the plant from himself.

Neville and the two Hufflepuffs spun around from their hunched position as the sound of Blaise’s dignity being compromised reached them. Neville’s mouth fell open as he recognised Blaise, but his surprise was quickly replaced by shock as he registered the plant currently twining itself around Blaise’s bicep, ignoring all attempts being made to detach it. 

“Zabini? What the…?” Neville started. 

Somehow, despite his rising panic, Blaise managed to glare at Neville before yelling, with as much dignity as he could muster: “Well don’t just stand there like some gormless prat, do something! Or i’m going to incendio the whole blasted weed.” That seemed to be the just the incentive Neville needed, and Blaise made a quick mental note to threaten a plant if he ever needed to encourage Neville into action in the future.

Neville grabbed his wand from where it rested on the bench beside him and made a quick swishing flick motion. The tendril instantly loosened its hold on Blaise’s arm and recoiled back towards its original position. With the immediate danger past, Blaise looked curiously at Neville. He arched an eyebrow in subtle salute to the casual display of non-verbal magic, before turning to scowl at the plant which had so recently entangled him. He moved carefully past it, and its neighbours, to ensure it didn’t try to snare him again. Neville was still standing there, his wand hanging loosely in his hand and a puzzled expression playing across his features. The two nameless Hufflepuffs were probably still standing there too, but Blaise didn’t pay them a blind bit of notice. He gathered the scraps of his dignity together and proceeded with his objective.

“Longbottom.” He said imperiously, inclining his head slightly in greeting, and acting as if the previous few minutes had never happened.

“Zabini.” The other boy nodded in reply. 

“I’ve a few matters I need to discuss with you, at your earliest convenience of course.”

“Er, okay, sure, well I guess we’re pretty much done here,” He said, turning round to address the students beside him “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, not really much more we can do about those seedlings now. Same time tomorrow?” Nameless Hufflepuff one replied.

Longbottom nodded “Okay, I’ll clean up here. See you later John, Elsie.”

“See ya Nev” 

“Thanks Nev.” Nameless Hufflepuff two (who Blaise deduced must be Elsie, since John wasn't a particularly feminine name) replied, before wrapping her arms tightly around Longbottom, in much the same fashion as the plant had done to Blaise only moments before. “Really looking forward to getting dirty with you again tomorrow.” She said, smirking and looking up at him through lashes that, in Blaise’s opinion, were far too heavily mascara’d for gardening. He frowned at the obvious attempt at flirtation, and then shook his head minutely to dislodge the uneasy feeling from his brain. Why should he care whether some trampy Hufflepuff wanted to throw herself at Longbottom? He reasoned that he was probably just thrown by the concept of there being such a thing as a ‘trampy Hufflepuff’.

Having said their goodbyes, the two Hufflepuffs headed back to the castle, barely sparing Blaise a second look. He gave them his best Slytherin glare as they walked past, and upon casting quick glance at the grounds outside the greenhouse, was more than a little pleased to see the rain had yet to let up. Unwilling to explore why he felt so satisfied at their soaking, he returned his attention to Longbottom, who was still standing in the same position, only now looking expectantly at Blaise. He briefly wondered when Longbottom had gone from a gawky, awkward, dork, to a tall, confident, broad-shouldered man, and suspected it must have occurred during the war at some point. But that was not a line of thought he wanted to follow through to its potentially troubling conclusion.

Even with the constant drive for ‘inter-house unity’, the other houses were still suspicious of Slytherin. Blaise couldn’t really blame them, after all, he’d been there last year. As much as he had been ‘neutral’, he’d still been witness to, and a part of, some pretty horrific things within the walls of the castle. Every room, every corridor, held terrible memories so it was not like people could easily forget. Great strides had been made, however, and they weren’t even two months into the first term back since the war so Blaise was hopeful that things would get better. If he was successful in his mission, it would surely go a long way to patching up any remaining differences. 

“So...ah, you wanted to, what was it, ‘discuss some matters’? Only I promised Professor Sprout I’d leave the place looking tidy, and I really don’t want to be here all night, so spit it out.”  
Blaise was momentarily taken aback by the brusqueness of Longbottom’s tone. Definitely no sign of the meek pushover he had seemed to be before the war, he thought to himself.

“Right, yes.” He clapped his hands together and briefly considered the best way to proceed. “Well. I need you to tell me everything you can about Potter. Likes, dislikes, favourite sexual position. You know, the usual stuff.”

Longbottom’s eyes had steadily widened as he processed what Blaise had just said.  
“You what?” He said incredulously. 

“Close your mouth Longbottom.” He drawled disdainfully “It’s not a difficult question. You’re friends with the boy wonder, no? Ergo it is a logical assumption that you would have some insight into the way his mind works. What makes him tick. What gets him off. Whether he’s still banging that Weasley girl.”

“I understood your question Zabini. What I don’t understand is why the fuck you want to know Harry’s ‘favourite sexual position’? And what’s it to you if he and Ginny are still together or not?”

Blaise held his hands up placatingly “Okay, okay, I’ll admit the sexual position question is not essential. He’s fairly obviously a missionary man. But regardless, I still need you to tell me everything you know about him.”

Neville leaned back against the bench and folded his arms across his chest. His shirtsleeves pulled tightly across the muscles of his upper arms and Blaise found his eyes flicking down to map the well-defined curves before he could stop himself.

“Why?” Neville’s question dragged Blaise’s attention back to the conversation. “And why are you asking me? Surely Hermione, Ron, or, and here’s a really novel idea, Harry himself might be better positioned to answer you.”

Blaise grinned delightedly “Oh my, Longbottom, I do believe you are sassing me! Ha!” He barked out a laugh. He was enjoying this new, confident, aesthetically pleasing Longbottom. “Believe it or not, I did try to speak to Weasley but he told me to get lost. Granger wasn’t much better either.”

The corners of Neville’s mouth twitched like he was trying to stifle a smile. “Hermione told you to get lost?”

“Not in those exact words. There was something about studying and essays and focus. I don’t know.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I lost interest before she finished.”

Neville huffed in what might have been amusement. Blaise decided it was amusement. He liked that had amused the other boy.

“Look, Zabini, you seem like a decent enough bloke, but unless you tell me why you’re suddenly so interested in Harry, then I’m going to have to pull a ‘Ron’ and tell you to get lost.”  
Blaise opened his mouth to reply, but Neville held up a hand to silence him. “But you should know that providing me with a reason for your odd questions won’t automatically guarantee you answers.”

Blaise arched an eyebrow in admiration at Neville’s casual display of dominance, although he would deny this if questioned. He briefly toyed with the idea of inventing a reason, but decided that truth would be easier, and more likely to garner results.

“Okay, I’ll be honest with you, but you must keep it to yourself.” Neville nodded his assent and Blaise continued, “Draco has been pining over Potter for Merlin only knows how many years and Pansy and I are both sick of it. Pansy’s got it into her head that the only way we’ll cure Draco of this is by helping him to seduce the golden boy, so I’m here to gather intelligence so our boy doesn’t go into battle unprepared. Therefore, I need to know everything you can tell me about Potter, then we can use this information to help Draco woo him, and they can live happily ever after in a gingerbread cottage by the sea. Or, he can get shut down and spend the rest of the year moping. As long as he just stops going on and on and on about Potter, I’ll consider it objective achieved.”

Neville stared disbelievingly at Blaise, opening and closing his mouth as if he couldn’t work out what he wanted to say first. “Malfoy likes Harry? He’s gay? Wait, wait, wait… Malfoy has pined over Harry for years? How long? Why in Godric’s name has he spent the last seven years being a completely intolerable twat to him?”

Blaise smirked “Yes he likes Potter. Yes, he’s gay, obviously. I don’t know, since they first met? And I have absolutely no idea. So, you’ll help?”

Neville brought both his hands up and rubbed them across his face before answering. “I don’t know. Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trick? I don’t even know if Harry’s into blokes. He’s only ever talked about girls, and has only gone out with Cho and Ginny, that I know about.”

“Can you at least tell me if he’s single?”

Neville paused, as if judging how much information he could relay without betraying his friend. He took a deep breath, likely buying himself time, before answering. “Yeah, he and Ginny called it quits ages ago, although I think she’s still into him. Not sure what happened there. He’s not with anyone new that I’ve heard of. Now I think about, it kind of makes sense for him and Malfoy to get together. He’s been rather obsessed with him since we started school.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Blaise exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Well then, you and I, my friend, have much to discuss!” He stepped up to Neville and clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing ever so lightly, a broad grin plastered across his face. At this proximity, Blaise could tell Neville was even taller than he was, although not by much he hastily added. It was strange to look up at someone for a change, so used as he was to being the tallest among his friends. Not bad strange, just...different strange.

After making plans to meet in the library in a couple of days, Blaise left Neville to his tidying up. As he made his way to the exit, he maneuvered carefully around the plants to avoid a repeat performance of his undignified arrival. At the door, he cautiously poked his head out to check the weather, and saw to his relief that the rain had stopped. The wind had even shifted enough of the cloud cover that it was possible to see the sun setting. He smiled to himself as he stepped out of the greenhouse and began the trek back up the castle. It seemed he had found an unlikely ally in Longbottom, perhaps they would even become friends, though that thought made him happier than he was prepared to admit. 

~~~

“Blaise!” The high pitched shriek immediately grabbed his attention as he walked into the Slytherin common room a little later that evening. He looked up to see his friends draped across the chairs in front of the sofa, all looking at him in various states of surprise and confusion and expectancy. He hoped the strange expressions were caused by Pansy’s shriek rather than some defect of his appearance. 

“Pansy, my dear, what can I do for you?”

“What, in Salazar, is that on your face?” Before Blaise could panic about what she could be talking about, she continued. “Is that a smile? Are you actually smiling?”

Relief washed over him. “You'd be smiling too if you'd successfully found an in with Potter.” He smirked cockily as he dropped onto the sofa between Pansy and Greg. Draco, who'd been sprawled disinterestedly on the armchair, perked up at this, leaning forward with his full attention on Blaise. They hadn’t told him the full scope of their plan, but he knew they planned to ‘befriend’ Potter in order to raise the standing of both themselves and of Slytherin house as a whole.

“You've got something on Potter?” He stared expectantly at Blaise. “Come on then, out with it!”  
Blaise leaned back, taking a moment to enjoy having power, before regaling the gathered Slytherins with the tale of his daring adventure to the greenhouses. And if he happened to embellish certain aspects of the story, such as the severity of the storm, or the ferocity of the plant, or his amazing skill at winning over a stubborn Gryffindor, well that was no one's business but his own. People didn't expect mediocrity from a Zabini.

~~~

They had agreed to meet towards the back of the library, by the little used divination section, at eight on Thursday evening. Blaise waited until twenty past before heading up from the dungeons, not wanting to appear too eager. He and Pansy had spent the previous two days going over all the details they needed to know about Harry, and Blaise was feeling quite exhausted by the whole thing. He had considered not showing up at all, or sending Pansy along instead (not that she’d ever agree to it), but the thought of Neville sitting in the library all evening waiting for him was enough to encourage him to only be slightly late.

It was close to half past before he sauntered into the library. He wound through the stacks until he spotted Longbottom, sat by himself in the corner. He had a book open in front of him, and worried the corner with his fingers as he looked down at the page. Blaise stood and watched him for a minute or so before making his presence known. He’d never actually paid much attention to Longbottom, even though they’d shared classes for the last seven years, but he wasn’t sure why that was, now that he took the time to study him, unobserved. The Gryffindor was chewing his bottom lip and it glittered wetly in the candlelight; he wasn’t beautiful, but he had definitely grown into his features. And he was strong, both physically and magically, which was a definite plus. He wondered whether the hair on his chest was as thick and dark as the hair on the forearms that were exposed by rolled up shirtsleeves... Blaise abruptly stopped himself from thinking any further down that path and shook his head to clear any lingering thoughts of Longbottom’s power. Blaise was certain he was not gay. He couldn’t be gay. There was no way he was appraising Longbottom as he would a potential female conquest.

Blaise walked up to Longbottom’s table and sat in the chair beside him. He saw the relief flash across Longbottom’s face the second he saw him. Longbottom opened his mouth to speak, possibly in greeting, but Blaise spoke before he got a word out. “So. To business. What can you tell me about our golden boy so that I can get the Prince of Slytherin off my back?”

“Oh, hi. I thought, er, I thought maybe you’d forgotten.” Neville ran a hand through his hair and hooked it behind his head, a shy smile gracing his face. Blaise couldn't ignore the way Neville had relaxed when he saw him, as if he truly thought Blaise wouldn’t show. As much as it pained him to show compassion to another human being, Blaise felt an inexplicable desire to apologise for keeping Neville waiting.

“Sorry. Draco wouldn’t shut up. I got here as soon as I could.” He lied, cringing inwardly at the ease at which the lie fell from his lips. .

“Sure, no problem.” Neville grinned at him. 

Merlin, he’s like a human puppy. Blaise thought to himself. Best hope he doesn’t get over-excited and urinate on the floor. At this thought, Blaise had to bite the inside of his mouth to stifle the laughter that was threatening to explode from him. Neville looked on expectantly and Blaise could feel the corner of his mouth quirking up as an almost fond smile tried to take over his face.

“Right, I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said, and I can’t see any reason not to help you, so I’ve written a list of things like, er, Harry’s likes, dislikes and so on. Just stuff I can think of off the top of my head so, er, here.” Neville pushed a folded piece of parchment towards Blaise.”Obviously, keep it to yourself. And Malfoy. Harry will kill me if he sees it. As will Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and pretty much all of Gryffindor.” He laughed nervously, his eyes trained on Blaise, searching for a reaction.  
“Oh, wow. This is great.” He replied, scanning the parchment quickly, before looking back up at Longbottom, who was still eyeing him anxiously. “Seriously, this is perfect.” Longbottom positively beamed at his comment, and Blaise felt himself answering the wide smile with one of his own. 

The boys stayed in the library until Madam Pince kicked them out. Discussion about how best to play cupid between Harry and Draco soon turned to talk about life in general and Blaise could not remember the last time he’d had so much fun without there being any alcohol or boob involved. They went their separate ways after arranging to meet again in a week, and Blaise felt a flutter of excitement in his stomach at the thought of spending another evening with Longbottom. Once more couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he strolled back to the dungeons, so he desperately hoped Pansy wouldn’t be around to mock him for it.

~~~

The week until their next meeting passed uneventfully enough. Draco had taken the information Blaise gave him and, with some encouragement, was able to approach Potter and make initial overtures towards a tentative friendship. It was the talk of Hogwarts, these two former enemies being seen conversing without a single hex or punch thrown. Blaise couldn’t help but feel slightly pleased that it was him (with Longbottom’s help, he grudgingly reminded himself) that had facilitated this truce. 

He hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to Longbottom since their meeting in the library the previous week, but they had exchanged a few, what he liked to think of as, meaningful glances when they passed in the corridor, or when they caught each other’s eyes at mealtimes, or in the few classes they shared together. Actually, the more Blaise thought about it, the more he realised he’d spent rather a lot of the last week seeking out Neville’s gaze. He refused to dwell on this though. He was Blaise Zabini. He most certainly did not moon after Gryffindorks, especially male Gryffindorks, since he was definitely one hundred percent not gay. 

In order to even up the balance, and to clear his head of all Longbottom shaped thoughts, Blaise spent the final two days before their next meeting making eyes at every vaguely attractive girl who looked his way. He had a reputation to maintain after all, and it would not do for the, self-proclaimed, most attractive student in Hogwarts to deny others of his attentions. 

~~~

Blaise arrived only ten minutes late for their second meeting, but even so, he had expected Longbottom to already be there, eagerly awaiting his arrival. However, when he rounded the stacks he saw the table was empty, and he couldn’t deny the disappointment that bubbled up and curdled in his gut. He checked to see if anyone had noticed him, then wandered in what hopefully passed as a nonchalant way around the stacks to see if Neville had sat somewhere different. The only thing worse than having potentially been stood up would be if someone realised he had potentially been stood up. It was late enough that most students had already headed back to their common rooms. Only the really dedicated students remained, huddled in hushed groups over books or scribbling frantically on parchment. Longbottom was not among their number, however. 

He paused for a moment by their table (when had it become their table? He mentally kicked himself for being a sentimental sap) considering his options. The disappointment was slowly being replaced by anger. Anger at Longbottom for standing him up, and anger at himself for feeling disappointment in the first place. This wasn’t something that happened to him. He’d never been stood up before; not by a date nor by a friend, and he wasn’t equipped emotionally to deal with it. He internally berated himself for feeling anything at all for Longbottom, though he refused to fully investigate just what those feelings might be. 

Taking one last look around, Blaise turned to leave. If Longbottom thought he could play at being a Slytherin and make Blaise wait for him, he had better think again. Blaise had almost reached the library doors when they were flung open, and Longbottom burst through them red-faced and panting. The Gryffindor glanced over at Madam Pince’s desk, grimacing apologetically, but didn’t stop. He likely would have continued on to the back of the library had he not spotted Blaise and frozen in place. Blaise watched as the determined set of his face was replaced first by a look of surprise, and then relief.

“Zabini! Thank fuck. I am so so sorry. I …” Blaise held up a hand to cut Longbottom’s breathless apology short, then turned and walked back to their dark corner of the library. He hoped his relief wasn’t as obvious as Longbottom’s. He didn’t speak until they were both sat at the table, but Longbottom had continued offering apologies for his tardiness as he followed Blaise through the library. Once again, Blaise was reminded of a puppy, as Neville trailed behind him, looking at him with doleful brown eyes. 

“You should know that I don’t appreciate being kept waiting.” Blaise said, taking a seat, and ignoring the fact that he had kept Longbottom waiting much longer the previous week.

“Sorry mate” Longbottom replied. “I tried to get away but it was all kicking off in the common room. Ron basically called Harry a traitor for talking to Malfoy, and Harry told him to fuck off, then Hermione and Ginny got involved, and everyone started taking sides. Ugh.” Longbottom leaned forwards and banged his head on the desk. He turned his head to the side and looked up at Blaise without lifting his head from the table. “I had to try and sneak off. I’m physically incapable of sneaking. It was awful. I hate to think what would have happened if I had said I was coming to meet you. Ron might actually have dropped dead.” He sighed exasperatedly.

“Are people really that mad about Potter talking to Draco?” Blaise knew that Draco was facing a lot of negative feeling this year, but he hadn’t realised feelings were so strong that just the idea of him talking to the Savior would be enough to divide a house, or potentially break up the Golden Trio.

Neville sat up and stretched his arms above his head. A small patch of skin above his waistband was displayed as the shirt and jumper rose up and Blaise found his eyes flicking downwards to better view it. “I don’t think most people care that much. There’s just a very vocal minority. Don’t get me wrong, there are an awful lot of people that are, rightfully, still pissed at him for what he did, but some people are less eager to forgive and move on.”

Blaise nodded in understanding. “And you?”

“Do you think I’d be helping out with this if I didn’t think he should be forgiven? He was just a kid who made some shitty choices. Besides he seems different this year, much less of an entitled, purist prick. And if McGonagall thinks he deserves a second chance, enough to let him back into school, then who am I to argue.” He paused, frowning. “ Look. I’m not going to force Harry to be friends, or whatever, with Malfoy, but neither will I stand in his way. It’s Harry’s choice who he forgives or fucks. Same goes for everyone else.”

Blaise stared at Longbottom, unsure how to respond. 

“Anyway, it’s about time the other houses realised that you Slytherins aren’t all bad.” Longbottom added, grinning as he leaned in to nudge Blaise with his shoulder. Blaise couldn’t help but chuckle as he nudged the other boy back. He could feel a blush creeping up his face, and hoped that the low light combined with his dark skin would be enough to hide it.  
As Blaise let go of his anger at being made to wait and feel feelings, the conversation between them became less tense and flowed more freely.

~~~

Over the next few weeks, Blaise and Neville continued to meet up every few days, even though it became obvious that Harry and Draco no longer needed assistance and were actually doing a pretty good job of getting to know each other without outside influence (if gossip was to be believed). So, they began to find other reasons to meet. Which is how Blaise found himself with Neville in the greenhouses one blustery Saturday in mid-November, rather than in the Hog’s Head getting pleasantly buzzed like all of his friends. 

At Blaise’s suggestion, they had kept their encounters to quiet corners of the library or greenhouses in order to avoid the curious glances and gossip that would follow if their friendship became known. He was ashamed to be seen with Neville, but he had come to rather like having something for himself. He enjoyed the easy, relaxed nature of their friendship. He liked that he could talk about anything with Neville and know the boy wasn’t judging him or filing away the information to use it against him at a later date. 

Blaise knew it couldn’t last. Either his friends would find out and interfere, or Neville would realise that Blaise was shallow and judgmental and get bored of their association (he pretended that thought didn’t sting as much as it did). However, as things currently stood his friends had assumed he was off hooking up with various girls and paid no notice to his absences, and Neville still saw something in him worth his sole attention, so Blaise planned to make the most of their limited time together (all the while resolutely refusing to acknowledge whatever these warm fuzzy feelings he felt growing between them actually were).

However, while shivering in a greenhouse and rubbing his hands together to get some feeling back, Blaise realised he was starting to get a bit tired of hiding. So what if he was friends with Neville. It wasn’t weird or wrong to have friends in other houses, not now the war was over. In fact, it was encouraged. Although if people found out just how much of his time was spent thinking about the boy, about his crooked smile, soft brown eyes, and strong hands, things might be different… But no one, not even Neville, needed to know that. Because it meant nothing.

“Well, what sort of plants does she like?” Neville asked, for what must have been the fifth time since they arrived half an hour ago. 

Blaise startled. He’d not realised he’d drifted off into his head again. He shrugged and cast his eyes around, searching for the least threatening plant that also looked like it might fit in with his mother’s decor. “I don't know, Nev.” He huffed. “Something purple maybe? Preferably nothing that’s likely to disembowel her or her kneazles.” 

Neville frowned, deep in thought. Blaise could practically see the cogs turning in his head. He smiled fondly as the intense concentration caused the furrows in the other boy’s forehead to deepen. 

It had taken him several weeks, but Blaise was finally able to admit to himself that Neville was a friend. A good friend. He never would have guessed he could enjoy the other boy’s company quite as much as he did now. And it certainly didn’t hurt that he was so easy on the eye. Not that he was interested in him that way, Blaise hurriedly thought to himself, but from an aesthetic point of view, he felt they were a good match. He’d noticed the appreciative looks that Neville got from other students. The girl Hufflepuff (Emma? Ellie, Elspeth? Definitely ‘E’-something) he’d met briefly in the Greenhouses that first time he’d spoken to Neville seemed particularly determined in her pursuit of the boy, but Neville appeared to completely oblivious to any and all romantic attention. It was as if he still saw himself as the soft, pudgy, awkward boy he’d been through his early teens, rather than the tall, broad-shouldered, quietly confident eighteen year old he now was.

“Blaise?” Neville’s voice broke through Blaise’s pondering. 

“Mmhmm?” He didn’t even pretend to have been listening. Neville knew Blaise well enough now that he didn’t take offense when his attention wandered. It happened rather a lot when Neville got talking about Herbology, and probably not just with Blaise.

“I said, you might want to look into getting your mother a Quivering Wimbletongue. They have pale purple and white flowers, bloom twice a year, have a delightfully fresh scent, and have no murderous tendencies. There aren’t any at Hogwarts, but I could ask Professor Sprout to order one in?”

“What? Oh, the plant. Right.” Blaise frowned. He tried to remember why he had made up the lie about wanting a plant for his mother. Why he hadn’t just gone to the pub in Hogsmeade with every other sensible person. Neville was staring at him expectantly, with his large, soft brown eyes. Ah yes. Neville. For some reason he had thought it would be better to hang out in a cold, drafty greenhouse with Neville because.. why? Because he thought his fellow Slytherin’s might have a problem with Neville and he cared what they thought? Well, fuck that. he thought resolutely. Why should it matter that he was good friends with someone outside Slytherin. Draco had Potter, after all. 

“Do you fancy a drink?” Blaise asked.

Neville blinked at the sudden change in topic. “A drink? Oh, well there’s a small kitchen with a kettle in the back of Greenhouse four if you want a tea or something. I can go make you one?”

Blaise chuckled and shook his head. “I was rather hoping for something a bit stronger.”

“Oh?” Neville seemed lost for words, his face adorably scrunched up in confusion.

“Some of my friends are in the Hog’s Head, I said I’d meet them there. You should too. Come, I mean. To the pub. It’ll be a laugh.” He kicked himself mentally for sounding like a flustered first year. He hoped he didn’t sound too desperate. Because he wasn’t desperate. He didn’t need Neville to come with him.

“Okay, sure. Sounds great.” Neville grinned broadly at him, his face so open and trusting and genuinely happy, and Blaise felt his heartbeat race with the joy of having that happiness directed at him. “So, er, do you want me to order that plant for you?”

Blaise laughed again, and slung an arm around Neville’s shoulders, as he guided the boy out of the greenhouse. “Sure, whatever. Come on Nev. Let’s go get drunk.” 

Blaise felt his equilibrium returning. He was still nervous about how his friends would react to him bringing Neville to the pub, and he was nervous about how Neville would cope with being thrown to the snakes, and whether Neville would still want to be his friend after this afternoon, but the happiness he felt at Neville agreeing to spend time with him outside of the library or the greenhouses was enough to override all those worries. 

~~~

The walk down to Hogsmeade was bitterly cold. Blaise almost wished he was back in the relative warmth of the greenhouse. At least they had been sheltered from the wind. He popped the collar of his jacket up and wrapped his scarf more securely around his neck, then stuffed his hands back into his pockets. His stance was mirrored by Neville, who had also burrowed himself into his coat and scarf.

Blaise glanced at the Gryffindor out of the corner of his eye and tried to appraise him with fresh eyes. They definitely cut an odd pair. The red and yellow of the other boy's scarf contrasted brightly with his own green and grey one, and Neville wore a shabby brown duffle coat that looked at least as old as he was, whereas Blaise wore a bespoke charcoal grey peacoat that was new this season. Physically, they were both tall, but Neville’s appearance reflected his clothes; slightly shabby and well worn. His hair was fairly short, but unstyled, and his teeth were crooked. He had a what was probably a couple of days stubble on his face too. 

They hadn't said one word to each other since leaving the greenhouse, and Blaise was starting to feel the silence grow more awkward. He could see Neville glancing at him every so often, and a few times it looked like he might speak, but no words were forthcoming. 

The cold forced them to walk close together, and as such their arms would brush every few steps. Each touch sent jolts of warmth through Blaise, and he wondered if the effect was the same for Neville. It didn't exactly help with the awkwardness of the silence, but it made the walk much more bearable. By the time they reached the outskirts of hogsmeade, their arms were in almost constant contact, and Blaise briefly mourned the loss of that proximity when they finally reached the pub and had no more reason to stay so close.

Neville reached the door first and held it open for him. Their eyes met, and they exchanged a small, private smile. Blaise knew at that moment that Neville shared his nervousness and suddenly felt like perhaps it wouldn't be so awful. 

The interior of the pub was all darkness and shadows. Heavy drapes clustered around the few small windows, which were so dirty that even if there had been much light outside, it wouldn’t have been able to get through. Most of the light was provided by the candles that sputtered on each table, and in a handful of sconces around the bar. A few solitary patrons sucked on pipes, adding a haziness and a sickly sweet aroma to the air. Blaise headed straight towards the corner he knew his fellow Slytherin’s would be occupying. Honestly, they did themselves no favours by holing themselves away in the darkest corner of the sketchiest venue in Hogsmeade. He didn’t check to see if Neville was following him, but he could hear the clomping footsteps of the other boy and the thud of furniture being bumped into. Blaise chuckled inwardly, still not quite sure how he had become so enamoured by this strange boy who dressed like someones Grandad and had all the grace of a drunk erumpent.

“Blaise! About fucking time!” The familiar screech of Pansy Parkinson assaulted his ears as soon as she saw him. The rest of the gathered Slytherins turned to greet him and, as one, spotted Neville standing just behind his left shoulder.

“Darling, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you seem to have picked up a stray.” Pansy said driely, arching a dark eyebrow at Neville.

“Er, Hi” Neville raised a hand in greeting as he nervously surveyed the group.

“Nev? Neville! What are you doing here?” 

Blaise looked in the direction of the voice and saw Harry Potter sat in the furthest corner, sat beside a smirking Draco Malfoy. He hadn’t noticed him on his initial scan of the table as his dark hair and tan skin helped him blend into the shadows. 

“Harry!” The relief in Neville’s face was palpable. Blaise had to summon all his pureblood training to suppress a fond grin. Upon seeing Neville, Potter had risen from the table and now squeezed past the group in order to greet Neville in a way more befitting a couple of Gryffindors, which as far as Blaise could tell involved a lot of hugging and grabbing and back patting.

“So,” Pansy drawled, dragging his focus from the Gryffindors and back to the seated Slytherins “Did I miss the memo? Are we all supposed to have brought a pet lion with us?”

Draco hid his laugh in his drink, while the rest of the table sat quietly assessing the situation. Neville had disappeared off to the bar with Potter so Blaise took a seat between Greg and Millicent, and met Pansy’s accusatory glare straight on. 

“Pans, just because you are incapable of building alliances with other houses, there is no need to be jealous. Green is a terrible colour on you.” Pansy narrowed her eyes and took a sip of her drink. 

“You utter bitch” She spat, before smirking at him. “Seriously though, what gives? First Draco, now you?” 

“Hey, we’re no ‘Draco and Potter’ thank you very much. There’s no big secret romance or anything...” Blaise paused as he heard Draco choke on his drink. 

“What!? No! We..” Draco spluttered before Blaise cut him off.

“Hush now Drakey, the only person who doesn't know about your “secret” relationship is Potter himself, and since he's busy eying you up from the bar, it won't be long before he works it out.” He leaned forward to pat Draco’s hand patronizingly, before addressing the rest of the table again. “Longbottom and I, we’re just friends. He’s a laugh. You should give him a chance.”

“Hmm. Whatever you say Blaisey. I suppose he has got a nice arse.” Pansy replied, making a show of looking over Blaise’s shoulder and ogling Neville at the bar.

“I bet he’s proper fit underneath the scruffy exterior. All that working outside with plants and running about with Potter must have built some pretty decent muscles.” Daphne added, joining Pansy in her leering.

“Yes, someone’s going to snap him up quick once the rest of the school catches on that he’s blossomed.” Pansy and Daphne both cackled loudly at that, while the others laughed along with slightly less enthusiasm.

Blaise frowned. The thought of Neville becoming one of Pansy or Daphne’s conquests didn’t sit comfortably with him. He wasn’t about to vocalise this. There was no need to add fuel to dumpster fire that was Pansy’s fertile mind. Luckily at that moment Neville and Potter returned from the bar. Potter went back to his seat by Draco, and Neville grabbed a chair from a neighbouring table and slid in between Blaise and Millicent. He slid a firewhiskey towards Blaise, who accepted with a nod of thanks. He resolutely ignored Pansy’s raised eyebrow and speculative glare.

“Welcome to the snakepit, Longbottom.” Pansy said, breaking the silence that had fallen across the table and raising her glass in salute.

“Cheers Parkinson” Neville replied cheerfully, raising his own glass at her. The rest of the group followed suit, and just like that, Neville had been accepted, if somewhat tentatively. Blaise allowed himself a brief sigh of relief. 

~~~

“So, are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or are you sticking with your ‘just friends’ bullshit?” Pansy glared at Blaise, as if she could pluck the answer from his head herself if she stared hard enough.

Blaise looked up and groaned. He’d failed to notice everyone leaving for bed except for Pansy. He’d been expecting her to grill him about Neville since the afternoon at the Hog’s Head, but so far had avoided being alone with her. 

“I know you like to think you know everything about everyone, but I’m telling you now, whatever fancy is currently floating around in your head is wrong.” Blaise glared back at her, hoping she would take the hint and drop the subject. 

Unfortunately, if she got the hint, she ignored it and in usual Pansy fashion continued prodding.

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we. I’ve seen the way you stare at him across the Great Hall, and in class. One would have to be blind not to notice the way you drool after him and follow him around.”

“I do not.” He replied indignantly, barely concealing a splutter with a sneer. “I’ll have you know, I’ve never once drooled after anyone. Ever. Why on earth would I drool after some boy? A Gryffindor boy at that.”

“Come on Blaise, are you seriously telling me you’ve not realised you’re at least a teensy bit gay?”

Blaise couldn’t help but let his indifferent demeanor slip at that. “What? What the fuck are you on?” He goggled at her, eyes wide in disbelief. He hastily scanned the common room to see if anyone had heard Pansy oh-so-casually ‘out’ him. He couldn’t believe she had just dropped that word out there when he clearly wasn’t gay. Sure, he liked Neville quite a bit, and sure, he occupied a lot of his thoughts, and so maybe there had been a few heated dreams followed by guilty shower-wanks, but that didn’t make him gay. He could just appreciate beauty when he saw it, even if that beauty was male and a bit dorky. He leaned in towards Pansy and hissed “I’ve had a different girl every week since we started here. I’m not gay.”

She rolled her eyes, apparently completely oblivious to his turmoil. “Yes, quite, and if that doesn’t scream ‘overcompensating’ then i don’t know what does. And besides, when was the last time you actually hooked up with someone?” She arched an eyebrow at him knowingly before continuing without giving him a chance to answer. “Look, it’s not a big deal. So you fancy Neville, he’s hot, I don’t blame you.”

“Pans, you have finally lost your marbles. Nev’s a friend, and I won’t deny that he’s ‘hot’ in certain lights, but I’m not about to jump into bed with him. So kindly keep your theories to yourself.” At that, he got up and headed towards the entrance to the boys’ dorms.

Pansy chose that moment to shout across the common room “The sooner you accept it, the happier you’ll be. The UST is killing me!” 

He turned around to scowl at her before dashing up to his room. 

He lay in bed that night unable to sleep as Pansy’s comments spun round in his head. He tried to examine his friendship with Neville objectively. He knew he had been spending an awful lot of time recently watching Neville, and thinking about Neville, and he looked forward to the time they would spend together at the greenhouses or the library more than anything else, but was Pansy right? He rolled over and groaned into his pillow as the realisation sunk in. Pansy was wrong; he wasn’t a teensy bit gay. He was quite a bit gay. For Neville shitting Longbottom. 

~~~

Following Pansy’s unsolicited advice about his currently non-existent love life, Blaise decided the best course of action was to avoid Neville altogether. At least until he had got things a bit more straight (ha!) in his head. Maybe he needed to find a nice girl to mess around with. Pansy had been right about that, he had been going through a bit of a dry spell recently. It was just completely coincidental that the dry spell had occurred during these last weeks when he had been getting to know Neville. 

His avoidance plan was initially successful. He spent all his free time in the Slytherin common room, and made sure he kept away from the library and the greenhouses. Even in class, he was able to surround himself by other Slytherins and ensure he left the second class ended. Neville had tried, on several occasions, to initiate conversation, asking if he would be studying in the library, or needed any help with herbology, but he was able to brush him off rudely enough that after a few days, Neville gave up and resorted to sending him baleful looks across the class. Blaise could feel the guilt gnawing at him everytime he caught one of those kicked-puppy stares, but he squashed it down with all the other confused feelings he had for Neville, telling himself that things would go back to normal if he could just keep his distance. 

Blaise still hadn’t enacted the part of his plan that involved seeking out a warm, female, bodies to pass the time with, but that was largely due to him spending so little time outside of the Slytherin common room. He’d already had a turn (or two) on all the eligible Slytherin females, and things weren’t yet so dire that he felt the need to lower his standards. 

After two weeks, he could tell his friends were starting to get irritated by his behaviour, but they had wisely chosen not to comment on it. Even Pansy had kept her mouth shut, surprisingly showing a modicum of tact for once. Blaise knew they were talking about him amongst themselves though, because his friends had fallen suspiciously quiet as he approached on more than one occasion. So he would glare sullenly at them until they had the decency to look abashed and then everyone would go back to pretending everything was normal.

Mealtimes became torturous. He was a creature of habit, so he would habitually sit at his usual place at the table Slytherin table in the Great Hall, which was next to Draco. And of course, Draco had chosen this position because it gave him the best view of Harry. And Harry was often sat with his friends around him. Friends who included Neville. Blaise did his best to keep his eyes on his plate, or on Pansy, Greg, or Millicent who would usually sit opposite them, but he couldn’t help glancing across at the Gryffindor table from time to time. Neville usually sat with his back to the Slytherin table, but Blaise would still look regardless. 

As he observed Neville during mealtimes, Blaise realised Neville was much more popular than he had previously thought. He was almost always in conversation with the she-weasel, or Lovegood, or one of the Patil twins (over seven years, and Blaise still wasn’t sure which one was which, despite them being in different houses). And he was invariably accosted by a selection of nameless girl Hufflepuffs, who would stop by to flirt, fawn, and drape themselves over him before moving back to their own tables. Blaise could barely stifle the scowl that threatened to mar his face.

“Is there something particularly vile on my shoulder or has one of Longbottom’s puffettes turned up?” Pansy looked over at Draco, pointedly ignoring Blaise’s glare. He was so sure he hadn’t made any outward acknowledgment of disgust or jealousy when he had seen the latest floozy throw herself at Neville.

“Oh, it’s a particularly good one today. Dark hair, well endowed, leaning in and pushing the girls ‘together and up’.” Draco mimed adjusting his imaginary cleavage. “She knows what she’s doing. Completely wasted on Longbottom, of course, but nonetheless, points for effort and execution.” Draco smirked imperiously, looking for all the world like he had just judged ‘best in show’. 

“I thought as much. I really hope Longbottom finds happiness soon. This endless stream of suitors is becoming tiresome.” Pansy turned to face Blaise, looking at him in a way that told him he was supposed to pay attention to her words. He glowered at her before turning back to witness the scene Draco had described.

“I can’t see him staying single for long. Harry said he’s getting asked out almost once a day. What’s the betting he’s doing more than Herbology down in the greenhouses.” Draco waggled his eyebrows suggestively and was clearly amused by what he had just said, if the irritating smirk was anything to go by. 

Blaise tore his eyes from Neville to glare at Draco. Since the blond had got together with Potter, he had become almost unbearably smug.

Nott looked up from the book he had open beside his barely touched plate of food and squinted at the Gryffindor table, his face screwed up in concentration. He turned back to Pansy and Draco. “I don’t get it, what’s so special about Longbottom?” 

“I think it would be easier to answer ‘what’s not so special about Longbottom’, eh, Blaise?” 

Draco jostled Blaise with his elbow, while Pansy and Daphne cackled loudly enough to draw the attention of half the students in the Great Hall. Even Greg offered up an amused grunt. Blaise scowled at them, silently daring someone to add anything else. Nott looked momentarily confused as he scanned the expressions of his fellow Slytherins, but must have decided to stop caring about the current drama as he shrugged and muttered dismissively before returning his attention to his book.

“The next person to mention Longbottom will get hexed so badly you’ll wish the Dark Lord himself was back to save you.” Blaise hissed angrily. 

His friends stared at him, jaws hanging open and eyes wide. A shocked silence clung to the group, and Blaise felt the guilt of bringing up such a sensitive subject so carelessly prickling down his spine. He maintained his hardened glare though. It wouldn’t do to show any more weakness. Without adding anything further, he got up and strode out of the Great Hall, pushing his way past various students who were milling about between the tables. He didn’t look over at the Gryffindor table, but he swore he could feel Neville’s eyes burning into his back as he departed.

Blaise paused when he reached the entrance hall. He didn’t know where he wanted to go, but he knew he wanted some space away from his friends, which ruled out his room, the Slytherin common room, and probably the library too, so he stalked off through the castle with no particular destination in mind. 

He walked and walked, paying no attention to the direction he was going, using the rhythm of his footsteps to calm his mind. When he encountered other people, he kept his head down and took the nearest empty corridor, successfully avoiding any social interaction. He refused to acknowledge why Pansy and Draco’s comments managed unsettle him, so instead he focused on the sound of the soles of his shoes slapping against cold, hard stone worn smooth by centuries of students.

After half an hour of aimless wandering, he reached a dead end. As he spun on his heel to head back the way he had come, he saw a small, arched doorway tucked away behind a rather nondescript statue. The doorway was almost completely concealed and he probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if he’d been paying attention to where he was going. Blaise smiled to himself, amazed that the castle he had lived in for the last seven years could still surprise him. With no better plan of what to do with his evening, Blaise twisted the large, iron handle of the door to find out what lay behind it.

The door swung open easily, with only a slight creak of its hinges, and Blaise was instantly assaulted by an icy blast of night air. He had expected a bit more resistance from what appeared to be an unused door. Hesitantly, he stepped through, eyes rapidly moving to take in his surroundings.

A covered walkway provided shelter for the few benches that clung to the walls. Leaf litter had accumulated in untidy mounds in the corners and at the edges, while a layer of dirt masked the colour of the flagstones. The whole place had an abandoned feel about it, and if it hadn’t been for the narrow path that carved through the detritus on the floor from the doorway in which Blaise stood to the covered colonnade that formed the opposite side of the courtyard, then he would have thought that no one had been this way in years. As it was, the pathway, though well-used, did not look like it was trodden by many people, rather, one or two people that used this route frequently, but alone. Blaise made a decision to stop his mindless wandering and sat down at one of the benches, confident that the likelihood of one of his friends stumbling across him was small. He hunched over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and exhaled loudly. Some of the tension fell from his shoulders as he finally allowed himself to relax.

After a few minutes, Blaise became very aware of the fact he was sitting outside, in the dark, in Scotland, in December, as a bitterly cold gust laced with icy shards of rain whipped his robes against his legs. He shivered and lifted his legs onto the bench, wrapping his arms around them and resting his forehead on his knees. He tucked himself in tighter against the wall, and tried to make the most of the meagre shelter. 

He reluctantly allowed his mind to drift to thoughts of Neville and admitted to himself that perhaps it was jealousy that had caused him to snap at his friends. Blaise hated that the mere thought of Neville with anyone else affected him so much, but he couldn’t stop the anger that surged up every time someone got too close. He knew he just needed to keep out of Neville’s way until his feelings (ugh) sorted themselves out, but it was so hard to avoid someone that lived in the same castle, had the same classes, and ate three meals a day in the same room as him. He toyed with the idea of asking Pansy or Draco to bring him food, so he wouldn’t have to watch Neville get flirted at every mealtime, but they were two of the nosiest people he knew so there’d be no way they’d do it without demanding an explanation from him.

Through the fog of his thoughts, Blaise thought he heard movement coming from the direction of the castle grounds. He tilted his head towards the sound, without lifting his head from his knees. He could make out a rhythmic thud, like something solid, but not heavy, thumping onto wet sod. As he listened and tried to fathom what he was hearing, the sound got louder and changed. There was a slight scraping, crunching sound, like the same something as before but now moving across compacted gravel or grit covered stones. Not something, his brain finally supplied, footsteps. It sounded like footsteps on a dirty stone floor! He rejoiced at putting a name to the sound at the same time as horror struck at the realisation of what this actually meant. 

The footsteps stopped. 

Blaise raised his head to glare at whoever dared stumble across him in a supposedly abandoned courtyard late on a winter's evening, but his eyes widened in shock as they met a similarly shock-widened familiar gaze.

“Blaise?” The other person said, at the same time as Blaise uttered disbelievingly, “Neville?”

Neville stood before Blaise, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to another. His mouth hung slightly ajar as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to speak or remain silent, and his eyebrows were knitted together in a faint frown. Blaise did nothing to ease the boy’s obvious discomfort. He felt the guilt of being caught hiding in the dark slowly subside as it was replaced by irritation that Neville was just standing there staring at him.  
A female voice startled them both out of their stalemate “I guess I’ll just walk myself back then.”

Blaise looked up and sought out the owner of the voice. Nameless-girl-Hufflepuff was stood beside Neville, her arms folded across her chest, and looking decidedly exasperated. Neville whipped his head round, guilt etched across his expressive face as he realised he had momentarily forgotten all about his companion. 

He brought his hand up to the back of his head and tugged at his hair. Blaise frowned at the nervous gesture, wondering why Neville looked like he had just been caught cheating by a jealous girlfriend. “Er, sorry Els. You know Blaise, right?”

Girl-hufflepuff (Elsie, Blaise’s mind supplied) glanced in Blaise’s direction, thoroughly unimpressed. “Sure. I know of him. He’s had his way with half the girls in the castle.”

Blaise arched an eyebrow disdainfully at her. “Only the pretty ones, love.” He sneered.

Elsie snorted, her posture becoming more rigid and defensive. “Like I would want to do anything with a snake like you.” She spat.

Blaise narrowed his eyes at her, and slowly unfolded himself from the bench. His wand hung loosely in his hand, and he was outwardly relaxed, but inside he was coiled tight like a spring and ready to hex the girl at a moment's notice. He watched the way she tucked herself behind Neville, threading her arm through his, and felt his anger surge upwards. His lip curled up on one side and he had to consciously stop himself from snarling at her.  
Neville, who had looked vaguely bewildered during the brief exchange, evidently sensed the tenseness of the situation, and interrupted.

“Right, well, I should get Elsie back to her common room before curfew.” He said, smiling apologetically at Blaise. “Oh, before I forget, are you coming to the party next week?” He added hopefully.

Blaise grunted noncommittally and gave a slight shrug, unwilling to admit that this was the first he’d heard about any party. He watched as a dejected look flickered across Neville’s face and felt slightly better about himself. No matter how upset he got, at least he was able to school his features into an expressionless mask.

Elsie cleared her throat pointedly, reminding the boys that they weren’t alone and suggesting to Blaise that perhaps he had been staring a bit too long at Neville. He directed another sneer in her direction. She was clearly determined for him to hate her.

Neville shook his head minutely. “Okay, well maybe I’ll see you there.” He said with a small, hopeful smile. “It’s next Saturday, by the way, in the old Charms classroom on the 4th floor. 8pm kick off. In case you’ve forgotten.” 

Blaise narrowed his eyes and nodded in acknowledgment, but said nothing. He had a horrible feeling Neville caught a glimpse of his surprise about the party before he’d been able to school his features into something more neutral, which lead him to the horrible conclusion that either Neville was surprisingly good at reading people (unlikely), or that he wasn’t as accomplished at hiding his emotions as he thought (also unlikely). He quickly dismissed the idea that maybe Neville was just good at reading him. He didn’t want to dwell on the implications of that.

He watched silently as Neville walked towards the door to the castle with Elsie entwined around his arm like some obnoxious fast-growing creeper. Just before they disappeared through the doorway, Elsie looked over her shoulder and smirked in such a non-hufflepuff way, Blaise would have been impressed had he not been holding himself back from hexing her into next week. 

Blaise sighed and collapsed back onto the bench as if he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. He realised he could no longer deny that he liked Neville in the way that Pansy had suggested. But now Neville was clearly together with that awful Hufflepuff bint, and Blaise was left to sit all alone in a cold, dark courtyard with nothing but his traitorous feelings and the rustling of leaf litter for company. He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the small patch of sky that was visible from his position. It was a long time after curfew that night that he finally made his way back to his bed, and longer still before he slept.

~~~

The week after he encountered Neville in the courtyard, Blaise, Theo, Daphne, Greg, and Pansy were crowded together on a sofa in the common that was slightly too small to accommodate them. They were waiting for Draco to emerge from his dorm so they could head down to dinner. Blaise sat back listening to the conversation, but not adding anything. All week he had hoped that someone would mention the party, so he could find out whether he was the only one in the dark, but so far he’d heard nothing. During a lull in the conversation, Blaise took the opportunity to casually bring the subject up.

“So, is anyone going to that party? I think it’s next week?” 

Pansy spun round to look at him from where she was perched on Blaise’s knee.  
“The Gryffindor Yule party? I heard that there’s going to be alcohol. You couldn’t pay to keep me away!” She hooked her arm around his neck, hugging him tightly in her excitement.

“They may be a bunch of self-righteous twats most of the time but they know how to throw a party.” Daphne added. She was draped across both Theo and Greg as if they were a chaise longue. 

“If you like loud, boorish parties, that is.” Pansy said. “Which of course we do.” She added, grinning widely.

“I can’t believe McGonagall fell for that inter-house unity crap.” Said Daphne, looking at her nails disinterestedly.

“We don’t need a party for inter-house unity now that Draco is shagging Potter.” Theo added drily. 

The group fell about laughing and the conversation swiftly moved onto other topics as Draco finally appeared and they could make their way down to dinner.

Blaise hung back, briefly considering skipping dinner so that he wouldn’t have to see Elsie throw herself at Neville, which she would undoubtedly do, but when he looked up to see if his friends had left, he saw Pansy standing by the entrance waiting for him.

“Come on, out with it.” She said as he approached. As soon as he was close enough, she grabbed his arm, linking her own through it, and dragged him out of the common room.

Blaise frowned “Out with what?”

“You’ve been in a sulk all week and I deserve to know why since you’re making me put up with your sour face.”

“It’s nothing.” He growled.

“Don’t ‘It’s nothing’ me. It’s Longbottom, isn’t it? And that girl who recently seems to have attached herself to his side?” She stopped in the middle of the corridor and glared at him, daring him to disagree with her. If he didn’t know her better, he’d have thought she was reading his mind. As it was, she was probably just reading the emotions he was trying so hard to keep from flitting across his face.

“Fine. You were right. Maybe I do like-” He paused and looked around to see if anyone was close enough to eavesdrop. Pansy grabbed his elbow and dragged him into a nearby alcove, throwing up a silencing charm for good measure. Blaise continued, his tone still strained, but slightly more even. ”Maybe I do like Nev. But what can I do about it? Not only is he straight, but he’s also got a girlfriend. He’s clearly not interested. Plus I’ve been a complete shit to him the last few weeks so he probably doesn’t even want to be friends.” With a frustrated exhalation, Blaise deflated and leaned back against the wall dejectedly, scrubbing his face with his hands. Pansy watched him carefully for a few moments before speaking, which was fine because he didn’t feel much like talking.

Pansy had her hands on her hips, and looked like she was about scold him. “You’re a massive idiot, you know that right?” Blaise peered at her from between his fingers, which were still covering his face. Slowly, he brought his hands down to his side, and hoped that this wasn’t the extent of her sympathy or advice. 

Clearly noticing his anguish, Pansy softened her posture and opened her arms to draw him into a hug. Blaise relaxed into it, surprised though he was at witnessing this sensitive side of his oldest friend. She rubbed circles on his back with one hand, and he truly felt more at ease than he’d been for weeks. Until she started speaking again and reminded him of why they were hidden away in an alcove instead of at dinner.

“I know it’s difficult to put yourself on the line, but really, if you want any closure, you’re going to have to speak to him. What’s the worst that can happen? He’ll tell you to fuck off, you’ll cry for a few days, and you’ll move on.”

“What if he laughs at me? Or tells all his friends and they laugh at me? It’s hard enough being a Slytherin at the moment, without becoming the guy who was rejected by Neville Longbottom.”

“Admittedly I don’t know him as well as you do, but do you really think Neville would laugh at you? Or spread malicious gossip? Honestly, I can’t even imagine him telling you to fuck off. He’d probably go bright red and stutter adorably.”

Blaise managed a smile at the thought of a flustered Neville. “You’re right, again. Merlin I hate having to keep saying that.”

“Well, I never hate hearing it.” She smirked. “Come on then, you lovesick puppy. Let’s go get some food, then we can spend the evening working out how you can go about seducing your man.”

Blaise laughed and followed her out of the alcove. They headed to the Great Hall with arms linked, Pansy wittering away about something that had happened in class that day. Blaise let her chatter wash over him as he basked in the feeling of the closeness they shared, and for the time being pushed all thoughts of Neville from his mind.

~~~

“And just where do you think you two are sneaking off two”

Pansy and Blaise had rushed off after dinner, with a view to finding a quiet spot to work on Blaise’s problem. At the sound of Draco’s voice, however, they stopped and guiltily turned around to face him. Draco was standing in the middle of the corridor, his arms folded across his chest and an eyebrow quirked up to emphasise his question.

Blaise glanced at Pansy, who was mirroring Draco’s stance, to see how she wanted to play it, but she just shrugged minutely, which Blaise understood to mean that she would follow his lead. He sighed inwardly, but it was only fair, since she was helping him out.

“What business of that is yours?” Blaise replied, unsure that point whether he wanted Draco’s interference or not.

“What business..? Believe it or not, but you are two of my closest friends, and if you are off shagging in empty classrooms, then I think I have a right to know!”

Blaise spluttered indignantly while Pansy burst out laughing. Draco maintained his crossed arms pose, but now his eyes flicked between the pair of them, his face a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you sneaking into that alcove before dinner.” Draco said, and his eyes narrowed as he continued to glare at them.

Blaise stared at him, unable to form a response for a moment. Pansy was almost bent double with mirth now, and Blaise felt vaguely miffed that she found the idea of them shagging so hilarious.

“Well? Is anyone going to let me in on your little secret?”

“Oh calm down Dray Dray” Pansy said in between gasps, finally getting her laughter under control. “It’s not my secret to tell, but if Blaise wants my advice, he’ll let you in.” She glared pointedly at Blaise. “Salazar knows I don’t need you hounding me until you get what you want.”

“Fine, Draco, come with us. I’m not having this conversation in the middle of a corridor.” Blaise said. He turned around and starting walking away without waiting to see if Draco and Pansy were following.

~~~

An hour later, the three of them were sat on the floor of an empty second floor classroom. Blaise had filled Draco in on the ‘Longbottom Situation’, as Pansy had referred to it, and he had been disappointingly unsurprised, both at the news of Blaise’s crush and his sexuality.

“If you wanted to keep your feelings about Longbottom a secret, you really shouldn’t have been so obvious about it.” Draco said.

“I didn’t even realise I liked him like that until the other day, how could I have been obvious about something I didn’t know?” Blaise would have torn his hair out in frustration if it had been long enough to enable him to get a good grip.

“Boys, come on. This is getting us nowhere. Draco, as someone who has recently acquired their own Gryffindor boy toy, what advice do you have for our poor, closeted friend?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly. He had acquired the horrible habit of turning all mushy whenever Potter, or anything Potter-related was mentioned. 

“Well, for starters, do we even know if he’s into cock? That’s probably fairly important, unless there’s something you’re not telling us, eh Blaise?” Blaise whacked him on the arm and Draco yelped in shock. He rubbed his arm and scowled at Blaise before continuing. “Anyway, aren’t you both forgetting that it was you two, and your man, Blaise, who helped get me and Harry together?” 

“That’s completely different. You and Potter have been into each other since you first met, you just needed a little push. Nev and I are different. We’d barely said two words to each other before this year. And how am I supposed to know if he likes cock? Merlin, I’ve only just realised that I do.”

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of parchment fluttering to the floor, though quiet, was enough to startle the trio into silence. As one, they whipped their heads round to identify the source of the sound.  
“You’re gay!?” Potter stood at the entrance to the classroom with his mouth hanging open in surprise. “And you want Neville?? My Neville? Neville Longbottom Neville?”

“Don’t you fucking knock?” Spat Pansy sourly.  
At the same time as Pansy spoke, Draco yelled “Harry!” and leapt up, bounding over to his boyfriend, heedless of the confusion, shock, and embarrassment currently filling the room.

“No! It’s not...I, I’m not.. oh fuck it.” Blaise leant forward, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and groaned, unable to think up an adequate response. They should just kick him out of Slytherin and drop him in Hufflepuff right now. 

Harry detached himself from Draco and gaped at Blaise. “Are you seriously into Neville?”

Blaise straightened up from where he had curled over into his own lap and attempted to claw back some dignity. “So what if I am?” He replied defensively, eyes narrowed.

“Hey, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Potter said. Draco moved closer to his side, clearly demonstrating on which side his loyalties would fall if Blaise were to pick a fight. “Look, if you’re serious about this, great, I can maybe help you out. But if you’re just messing about, then give up now because I won’t let you hurt my friend.” 

Blaise held his glare and matched it with one of his own for several moments before wilting. Was he serious about Neville? And did he want Potter to know such intimate details? He barely felt comfortable with Pansy and Draco knowing. He felt someone take his hand and looked over to see Pansy smiling encouragingly at him. 

“You stand a better chance with Potter on your side, you know that right? No one can deny the golden boy.” She spoke quietly enough that only Blaise could hear her. And again he had to admit, to himself this time, certainly not out loud, that she was right. Antagonising Potter wasn’t going to get him anywhere. He swallowed his pride and looked up at Potter.  
“Yes, I’m serious, I would never hurt him.” He said. 

~~~

The party had started at eight, but in the interests of being fashionably late, and certainly not because he had spent over an hour talking himself into going, it was gone half nine before Blaise sauntered in. Whatever Blaise had been expecting when he had thought about the yule party, it wasn't what he found upon opening the door. The disused classroom that had been commandeered for the event was unrecognisable beneath all the festive decorations and Blaise had to stop himself from gaping in wonderment lest someone mistake him for a muggle who’d never seen magic before. All the usual classroom furniture was missing, instead replaced with (or perhaps transfigured into) a selection of round tables, weighed down with all manner of colourful treats and drinks. There was comfortable seating dotted around the room too, but the centre of the room was clearly designated the dance floor. There was a christmas tree in each corner, dripping with tinsel and baubles, and tiny lights danced danced amongst the branches.

He scanned the room, trying to locate his friends in mass of bodies. It looked like every single person from sixth year upwards was in attendance. The room had surely been enlarged magically since there was no way this many people could comfortably fit into the room in its usual role.

He quickly spotted the golden trio and their associated hangers-on lounging across a U-shaped arrangement of sofas and the floor between them like they owned the place. Draco was among their number too, perched on the arm of one sofa, with Potter leant up against him, his head resting on Draco’s thigh. Blaise stared for a moment, his thoughts turning wistful as Draco absently tousled Potter's hair with one hand while talking to Lovegood. He couldn't imagine ever being able to have that with Neville.

The man in question was sat on an adjacent sofa, deep in conversation with the she-weasel, who was sat beside him (at a respectable distance, Blaise noted), Dean, against whom she was leaning, and Seamus, who was sprawled across the floor in front of them in a terribly uncouth manner. Blaise threw back his shoulders and mentally readied himself to approach them. People are supposed to mingle and socialise at parties, he told himself, nothing odd about approaching them. And Neville is still your friend, even if you’ve not treated him as such. There is nothing to be nervous about. And besides, Draco is over there too. If shit happens, which is quite possible given your recent behaviour he chided himself, then he will provide you with an easy out. 

With a plan in mind, however sketchy it was, Blaise started towards the group, his heart thumping in his chest so loudly, he was sure it could be heard over the music.  
Neville looked up and caught his eye through the crowd, causing Blaise to come to an abrupt halt. He offered the Gryffindor a faint smile, which was about all his nerves would allow at this point and then watched as a broad smile lit up Neville’s face in return, which went a long way to soothe the jumbled knot of nerves in his stomach. He continued his path towards Neville with renewed vigour now that he knew his presence was welcomed, and the anticipation of spending time with the boy buzzed through his body. The nerves still had a starring role, but at least the fear that Neville wouldn’t even acknowledge him was diminished. That would probably all change though when Neville realised what Blaise’s true intentions were, he thought bitterly.

After what felt like an eternity, but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, Blaise was finally stood before the group, using every scrap of willpower he had to avoid shuffling his feet awkwardly, as he glanced between the assembled seventh and eighth years.  
All conversation seemed to cease abruptly upon his arrival in the midst of the group, and more than one person eyed him suspiciously. Even Draco paused in his caress of Potter’s hair, although he and Potter both looked at him with curiosity rather than suspicion. Despite the noise and bustle of the party continuing around them, Blaise felt the silence around him like a thick fog. He steeled himself for rejection; his body warred briefly between appearing nonchalant or amiable, but settled for standing rigidly with a neutral mask firmly in place. He refused to give any clue as to his unease through his posture. 

Neville opened his mouth to speak, clearly eager to ease the tension, but it was Seamus who was the first to break the silence “Hey Zabini” he said, from his position on the floor, “If you’re looking for Pansy, she’s over by the drinks table spiking the punch. Again. You can tell her from me, that shit is amazing.” He giggled and settled himself more comfortably on the floor. Several others among the group mumbled their agreement with Seamus’ statement.

“I’ll be sure to pass along your praise to her.” Blaise said, warily watching the group to see if anyone wanted to add anything. This is it, he thought. Speak to Neville or take the excuse unwittingly provided by Seamus and go in search of Pansy. The eyes of the group were still on him, and he swallowed nervously. He looked back at at Neville, who was watching him expectantly. Hopefully, even. Decision made, he took a deep breath, raised his chin, and said defiantly “Actually, I came to see Neville.”

There may have been a few raised eyebrows, and even a few surprised comments, but he didn’t notice anything except Neville’s warm smile as he stood up and threw his arms affectionately around Blaise’s shoulders. Blaise froze at the sudden contact, but Neville appeared oblivious.

“Alright mate!” Neville grinned enthusiastically. “Glad you decided to come. Here, sit down.” He gestured to the sofa from which he’d just risen, and then sat down himself, dragging Blaise with him, to squash between him and Ginny. Blaise sent her an apologetic look as she had to hurriedly move to avoid being sat upon, but she didn’t seem overly bothered to have to snuggle more tightly against Dean.

Within moments, Blaise found himself subsumed into the group, a glass of spiked punch in one hand and a mince pie in the other. The chatter and laughter washed over and around him, engulfing him in its embrace, and conversations were picked back up as if he’d never interrupted them. He was amazed at their ability to accept him into their midst. However, he was unable to join in with the conversations since his senses were being assaulted by everything Neville. They were close enough that the other boy’s earthy scent filled his nose, and he could feel Neville’s deep voice vibrate through him as he continued his conversation with Ginny, Dean, and Seamus. They were pressed so close, he couldn’t focus beyond the warmth of Neville’s arm and thigh pressed up against his. Desire and want flooded through him, and he allowed his mind to wander to thoughts of Neville caressing his head with his rough, outdoor-worn hands while he lay in his lap. 

“Sickle for them?” Neville’s voice jolted him out if his day dream.

Blaise blinked and looked round at Neville, confused.

“Sickle for your thoughts. You looked miles away.” Neville said.

“Oh, sorry.” Blaise glanced around and saw that Ginny, Dean, and Seamus were now talking amongst themselves. In fact no one was paying him and Neville any attention.  
Neville’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “Is something wrong?” He asked quietly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Blaise stared into deep brown eyes that almost matched his own. He knew should just tell Neville. Admit everything. Neville, I’m sorry I was a dick, but I think you’re great. The greatest, in fact. And it lead me to question my sexuality. When you’re done questioning yours, I’ll be right here, waiting for you with open arms. Is what he wanted to say. What he actually said though, was “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” Neville didn’t look convinced so he hastily added. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Neville beamed at him. “Sure thing mate, anything you need.” Neville then shifted the arm that had been pressed against his own and brought it down around Blaise’s shoulders, squeezing him briefly in a one armed hug. To Blaise’s growing shock and unease, Neville didn’t remove the arm, but left it draped across his shoulders as if this was completely normal behaviour and in no way out of the ordinary.

“Look’s like Nev’s had a bit too much punch!” Someone, possibly Seamus, yelled, laughing raucously. Blaise froze and Neville whipped his arm back. Blaise could see a deep flush spreading up his neck and mottling his cheeks.

“Aww, I think they’re cute.” Ginny said, giggling.

“What will your girlfriend say when she finds you canoodling with a Slytherin?” Someone else added, laughing at their contribution. 

Neville spluttered, “We’re not canoodling! We’re mates! Mates hug! Right Blaise?”  
More laughter. More jibes. The ghost of the warm pressure of Neville’s arm mocked him and he felt embarrassment curdling in his gut. Neville had a girlfriend. Neville couldn’t remove his arm fast enough. Neville was so insistent they were just friends. Neville couldn’t bear anyone thinking he might be interested in Blaise. Rather than answer, Blaise stood up from his seat and stalked away, ignoring the cries of “Can’t take a joke?”, and “Just messing” and “Typical Slytherin, always running away!”

Blaise fumed. He fumed at them for laughing at him, and fumed at himself for running away. He would not allow them to run him from the party though. Not now when he needed a drink more than ever. He marched over to the drinks table and looked for the punch most likely to have been spiked by Pansy.

“Blaise! There you are! We thought you had decided to spend the night moping all alone in your room. ” Pansy said, apparently oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“Instead, he decided to come and mope here.” Daphne added drily.

“Oh shush. Don't listen to her. She's just sour because the handsome little Ravenclaw she's had her eye on is currently getting intimately familiar with a Hufflepuff. Here, you look like you need this.” She thrust a goblet of sweet smelling liquid at him. 

He eyed her suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. The liquid burned down his throat and lit a fire in his belly.  
“What the fuck, Pans?” He managed to splutter the words out after regaining the use of his mouth. 

“Just a little something I knocked up. A mite stronger than the watery piss they’re serving here.” She said, gesturing at the table. “Nothing to worry about. Should give you the kick up the arse you need.” Her grin would have sent a lesser man running for the hills, Blaise however, just arched an eyebrow and took another sip, declining to remind her that she had reputedly also added her own touch to the ‘watery piss’. Now that he was expecting the burn, it was actually quite pleasant, and he welcomed the deadening of his senses. At least he might not remember the shame of rejection. And on that thought, he took a deeper swig, grimacing as he felt it cut a path down to his gut, where it sat hot and heavy. Pansy cackled joyously and hooked her arm through his before dragging him off through the crowd.

~~~

Blaise watched the heaving mass of students moving and writhing and swaying together in time with the music, like a room full of hormonal snakes. The alcohol shrouded him like an aura, blurring everything around him into one colourful mass. He’d lost count of the number of drinks he'd had many glasses ago, but he was fairly sure he could still walk if pressed. Pansy, Daphne, and Theo were sat beside him, but they'd long given up trying to include him in their conversation, so he continued to sit there in his own little bubble, alternately drinking and glaring, and definitely not sulking. He tried not to think about the hot pulse of jealousy that coursed through him whenever he had caught sight of Neville amongst the writhing rabble on the dance floor, Elsie coiled around him like a constrictor set on its next meal. Neville had glanced at him, but Blaise refused to make eye contact, angling himself away from the Gryffindor dismissively. 

As he pondered the many accidents that could befall his Hufflepuff nemesis, and any other girl who touched Neville, Blaise dimly became aware of silence pressing against his protective alcohol-infused shield. He stared at the honey-brown liquid in his glass and tried to work out how it could suddenly seem so quiet with the music still thumping throughout the room.

A cough. And then his name, uttered as a question. “Blaise?” Had he missed something? The voice was familiar. But unsure. Like its owner wasn’t sure their presence was welcome. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his gaze from his glass, and tried to make sense of the scene around him. Pansy was there, of course, and Daphne and Theo, although they weren’t talking anymore. Millicent and Greg had turned up at some point too. They also weren’t talking. They were all staring at him, as if they expected some kind of explanation.

“What?” He growled, annoyed that they had interrupted his wallowing. Pansy looked like she was trying to communicate something with her eyes, but at this late stage in his drinking, non-verbal communication was lost on him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She said exasperatedly. “Will you just talk to him? The ‘wounded puppy’ look is going to make me vomit if I have to suffer it for much longer.”

Blaise scrunched up his face in confusion. “What?” He found himself saying again, all eloquence lost several drinks ago.

“Blaise? Please, I just want to talk.” There was that voice again. The familiar, unsure one. He looked in the direction of the voice and saw Neville, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. He had a bottle in one hand, the contents only half drunk, and his other hand scratched though his hair before settling back at his side, his fist clenching open and shut in quick succession.

Blaise couldn’t find any words. His mind was incapable of processing what was expected of him. He stared at Neville, fidgeting nervously, for a moment longer before his brain eventually caught up.

“Talk?” He asked. Kicking himself for how stupid his monosyllabic answers must make him sound, but unable to form any other responses.

“Yeah,” Said Neville, looking relieved that Blaise had finally shown some sign of responding to him. “But not here. Somewhere quieter.” He added, glancing at the other Slytherins, who were still watching the two of them with varying degrees of suspicion. Except for Pansy who, Blaise noted, had an expression of barely concealed glee.

“Er, sure” Blaise agreed, finally. Neville grinned in relief, and Blaise couldn’t help the small smile that escaped in response. If any of his nosy friends tried to question him about it later, he would blame the alcohol. 

Blaise took a breath, then slowly pushed himself to his feet, before promptly overbalancing and falling forwards. His downward trajectory was, however, halted by a strong pair of steady hands that held his shoulders and pushed him back up. His arms, which he had brought up to break his fall, were now pressed into Neville’s firm chest, his drink somehow still clasped in one hand and unspilled. He inhaled deeply, and Neville’s earthy scent, laced with a musky, masculine odor from having spent the night dancing, filled his senses, before he suddenly realised where he was, and more importantly who was watching and pushed Neville away. He rather exaggeratedly smoothed down his robes, refusing to make eye contact with anyone while he recovered his senses. Neville hovered uncertainly for a moment, probably debating whether or not Blaise was capable of walking by himself, or if he would need assistance. Blaise wasn’t at all sure if he was capable, but he was not about to intentionally show any further sign of weakness. On unsteady feet, he pushed past Neville and headed to the door, downing his drink on the way.

The stillness of the corridor hit Blaise like a bucket of cold water as he stumbled out of the party room. He briefly thought there must have been a silencing charm on the door for there to be no sound leaking out. It was an unnerving sensation, stepping from such a noisy, bright, busy room, into a chilly, darkened corridor and it caused his ears to hum and whine. He shook his head to dispel the feeling and immediately regretted it as the lines of the corridor swam in front of his eyes, causing his stomach to churn in sympathy. Grabbing his head and pressing his palms into his eyes, he silently begged everything to stop moving so his roiling stomach would quiet. 

A moment later, the door swung open behind him, noise and light spilling out into the corridor before the door snicked shut. In the silence that followed that brief interruption, Blaise listened as footsteps approached and then stopped at his side. He dropped his hands back down to his sides and turned to face Neville, brown eyes meeting their like.  
Blaise wanted to speak. Say anything. But his mouth was locked shut by Neville’s proximity. Once more, he was overtaken by Neville’s earthy musk and try as he might, he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away.

Before either of them could speak, they were assaulted by a rough voice shouting from the shadows.

“Oi! You two! Scarper! There’s to be no loitering. No funny business. Go on, get! Back to your dormitories you ungrateful wretches.” 

Blaise and Neville both spun round and saw Filch standing in the middle of the corridor, watching them with narrowed eyes and a down-turned mouth. Mrs Norris sat beside him, grooming herself without once taking her sickly yellow eyes off the two boys.

“Er, yeah, sorry. Just leaving.” Neville said. Turning to Blaise, he added hopefully “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Blaise stood blinking at him while he tried to work out what was going on. He thought they were here to talk. Unable to find any words, he nodded dumbly in assent, and watched as Neville smiled and ducked his head, before turning to walk away. Blaise’s head and stomach were still in disagreement as to which way the world was tilting and it was taking his full concentration to will his dinner to stay inside. The drink he’d downed on the way out of the party still burned in his throat and he was seriously starting to regret it. He could hear Filch muttering sourly about drunk students and vomit and indecency, but hadn’t realised he was still standing in the same place until Filch raised his voice once again.

“Are you deaf? Back to your common room, now! Your head of house won’t be very impressed when I wake him up to deliver him your drunken arse.” He sneered, looking torn between glee at getting a student in trouble, and frustration at having to leave his post and thus the opportunity to catch more misbehaving students.  
Blaise mumbled something vaguely apologetic and then looked around to get his bearings. The castle rocked beneath his feet like a ship on stormy seas, the walls swaying and twisting and spinning every time he tried to focus on anything. He just needed to find stairs. He’d find the dungeons eventually if he kept going down. 

“If you throw up on my floor, I’ll have you cleaning toilets until your hands bleed, you little sod. Bloody kids, think they can get away with anything. What were they thinking letting the sodding blighters have a party. This never would have happened…” Flich’s bitter tirade faded out of Blaise’s notice. He decided it was better just to move, get out of his line of sight, even if he didn’t know where he was or which way to go. Stumbling aimlessly around the castle until he recognised something was vastly preferable to throwing up at Filch’s feet, which was becoming a distinct possibility as time passed.

Decision made, he lurched forward, only to be confronted once again with a firm chest. This had better not be Filch, he thought to himself, closing his eyes and refocusing his efforts on stilling his stomach, which churned afresh at the prospect of being in such close proximity to the man. A shudder rippled through him, but he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes

“Come on, let’s go.” The warm, friendly voice wrapped around Blaise like a hug. He still didn’t open his eyes, or perhaps he couldn’t, he didn’t have the energy to try. It didn’t matter anyway since Neville was here now, and everything would be okay. He felt a strong arm snake around his waist, and gently urge him forwards. Everything felt warm and safe, and smelled like a summer’s evening. His head felt heavy, so he let it loll against Neville as the boy murmured soft encouragements to him.  
“You came back.” Blaise said softly, his consciousness barely holding on. “You came back. For me.” He repeated.  
“Of course I did. We’re mates. Mates look out for each other.” Neville replied, squeezing him gently.  
“Yeah, mates. I wish you liked me more. Lots more. Like I like you. You won’t though. Why would you? I’m not a girl.” Blaise sighed dejectedly, and finally succumbed to the blackness, hanging limply in Neville’s embrace.

~~~

Blaise groaned. His mouth tasted weird and peaty, like he’d sucked on compost. He grimaced as images of the previous flickered through his mind. Alcohol. Lots of alcohol. And… oh Merlin. Neville. He searched his hazy recollections for any clue as to what he’d done or said to Neville, but all he could remember were snatches of conversation with his friends and glimpses of Neville dancing with his girlfriend. He had no idea how he’d made it back to his bed.

He slowly opened his eyes, desperately hoping that drunk Blaise had had the sense to leave a glass of water on his bedside table. As his surroundings swam into focus through bleary eyes, the first thing that struck him was that this was very clearly not his bed. Light poured in through a gap in the bed curtains, illuminating the unfamiliar bed sheets. Everything was red. He rubbed his eyes and checked again. Yep. Still red. And gold. 

“Shit.” 

Dread trickled down his spine like cold water, ridding him of the last vestiges of sleepiness. He sat up, ignoring the pounding in his head, and searched for some clue as to whose bed he was in. 

“Fuck!” 

He could feel the panic start to bubble up inside and took a few deep steadying breaths. Before he could speculate any further, he heard someone whisper his name outside the curtains. Neville. He collapsed back on the bed and hid his face in his hands, praying for the mattress to swallow him up.

“Blaise? Are you up?” Neville hissed.

“Mmph” Blaise mumbled from behind his hands. Through the gaps in his fingers, he saw the curtain twitch and Neville tentatively poked his head through the opening in the middle. 

“Hi” The Gryffindor had the look of someone approaching an animal they weren’t sure wouldn’t attack at any minute. “How are you feeling? I thought you might need this.” He held a potion bottle out, like a peace offering. Blaise reluctantly uncovered his face and carefully pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. His brain felt like it was trying to push its way out through his eyes and his stomach gurgled threateningly. He peered at the bottle Neville was dangling in front of him and relief coursed through him when he recognised it as a hangover potion.

“You absolute beauty.” He said, grabbing the bottle and tipping it down his throat. He sighed with relief as the potion took effect almost immediately. But with a clear head came the recollection of his current situation. Neville was still watching him cautiously, just a floating head poking through a gap in the curtains.

“Firstly, thanks for the potion. Secondly, what the fuck am I doing here, wherever the fuck here is.” He took another look around at his surroundings, and suddenly realised he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “And thirdly, where the fuck are my clothes?” He added, hastily checking under the duvet to see if anything else was missing. To his relief, he still had underwear on, but that was it.

Neville snorted, clearly finding something amusing about Blaise’s predicament, then pushed through the curtain and sat on the end of the bed.

“You were so wasted you passed out so I brought you back here since I don’t know the password to your common room. And you kinda puked all over yourself so I had to, er, undress you.” Neville managed to look both amused and embarrassed, the corners of his mouth turned up in a barely concealed smirk.

Blaise blanched. “Oh Merlin. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were kinda sweet. When you weren’t, you know, chucking up on me.” He replied, grinning. Blaise was mortified and hid his face in shame.

“Oh shit. Really, I am so sorry. I threw up on you? Salazar. I didn’t do anything else embarrassing, did I?” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind looking after you.” Neville smiled softly and a flush crept up his cheeks. He averted his eyes and fiddled nervously with a frayed edge of the blanket. Blaise felt a fluttering in his chest that had nothing to do with the lingering remains of his hangover and his own cheeks started to warm. Before things could get too awkward, they were interrupted by the sound of the door hitting the wall as it was enthusiastically flung open.

“Oi, Nev, you coming? Ron’s gonna eat all the bacon if we don't go down soon. Nev? You up?” The curtains were whipped back to reveal Finnegan, whose eyes widened and jaw dropped upon seeing Blaise sat in Neville’s bed, shirtless, and looking decidedly disheveled.

“Oh jesus. Sorry! I'll just leave you to it. Don’t mind me!” He exclaimed, backing away from the two surprised boys chuckling. 

As he reached the door, he paused, a glint of something almost Slytherin-like in his eye “Good for you, Nev.” He said. “Glad you guys finally got your shit together. Next time though, hang a sock or something. You might like him naked, but I prefer him with a few more clothes.” Finnegan laughed and thudded down the stairs with all the grace of an erumpant before either boy could respond. 

Blaise could only stare at the now empty doorway, thoughts rushing through his brain. Did Finnegan think he and Neville had... ? Why didn’t he sound surprised? He glanced at Neville, who was studiously looking everywhere except at Blaise, his face burning bright red as he tugged uselessly at the frayed blanket. So much for Gryffindor bravery, Blaise thought as the awkward silence stretched on between them. Several times, Neville opened his mouth as if to speak, but clearly dismissed the words before they came out.

Blaise could hear Pansy’s voice in his head scolding him for missing this opportunity to get things sorted with Neville. So he took a deep breath and broke the silence.  
“What did he mean? ‘good for you’? And what was that about a sock?”  
As the seconds ticked by with no response, Blaise started to think Neville was just going to ignore him until he got bored and left. Eventually though, he looked up, determination etched across his features.

“It’s, ah, well, I may have told Seamus that I like you. Like, more than a friend like you.” He held Blaise’s gaze defiantly, as if daring him to ridicule or pour scorn on his confession.

Blaise’s heart was racing. He couldn’t believe what he heard. Neville liked him. He liked Neville. This might actually happen. All those late night fantasies and dreams that had left him flushed with want could really come true. He realised after a moment that Neville was still waiting for some kind of response, the defiance starting to wilt slightly with the fear of rejection.

“But you have a girlfriend.” Blaise said, suddenly remembering the Hufflepuff witch who seemed to be permanently attached to Neville’s arm.

Confusion flashed across Neville’s face “What? Oh, you mean Elsie? She’s not my girlfriend. She just won’t leave me alone.”

“Have you tried telling her to fuck off?”

“She’s a friend! And, well, she kind of keeps other, scarier girls away. I don’t know why they keep trying it on.”

Blaise snorted “Have you seen yourself recently? You’re fit! Tall, handsome, kind, and a war hero as well.”

“You think I’m fit?”

“Yeah?”

“And handsome?”

“Shut up.”

“No, I want to hear you say more nice things about me”

Blaise grinned and leaned forward to whack Neville on the arm, but Neville caught him by the wrist. Their faces were only inches apart, and Blaise could see each individual eyelash, each mark, the stubble from a day without shaving. He held his breath and he felt locked in place by Neville’s deep brown eyes. He caught the movement as they flicked down to his lips, and watched as Neville’s tongue poked out to wet his own. Suddenly, as if something had snapped, Neville surged forward and Blaise found himself pressed back against the headboard, a lapful of Neville, the Gryffindor’s dampened lips molded against his own.  
Neville started to pull away, spurring Blaise into action. He wrapped his arms around to other boy’s back to hold him in place and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. One slid up Neville’s back to cup the back of his head, the other firmly in place around his waist.  
Neville’s hands were tracing the contours of his chest, and Blaise arched up as one hand grazed a nipple. He was suddenly acutely aware of his state of undress, and the fact that Neville was still fully clothed. Growling, he slid a hand to the hem of Neville’s shirt and jerked it up. Neville got the hint immediately and sat back on his heels to whip the shirt off. 

The room was silent except for their panting as the two boys stared at each other, pupils blown wide with lust, lips reddened and swollen. Blaise was mesmerised by the sight of Neville’s chest. It wasn’t the first time he had seen a half naked, or even fully naked, man but it was the first time he had wanted to taste every inch of a man’s chest with his tongue. He reached out a hand and dragged his fingertips from collar bone down to the trail of dark, wiry hair that disappeared into loose trousers that couldn’t conceal a very obvious erection. Neville watched the movement with half-lidded eyes, exhaling a shaky breath as Blaise’s fingers lingered over the dark hair before dipping below the waistband.

He looked up at Neville questioningly. Neville nodded, but then moved away, much to Blaise’s distress and puzzlement. He watched the Gryffindor grab a sock from the floor, hang it on the doorknob, then shut and lock the door, casting a silencing charm for good measure.

Blaise chuckled and shuffled down the bed so he was lying flat. He lifted up the side of the blanket in invitation and watched coyly as Neville devoured him with his eyes.  
With speed Blaise would have doubted had he not just witnessed it, Neville darted across the room and straddled Blaise’s hips. He caressed the Slytherin’s chest, mapping it with gentle touches and harder scrapes of fingernails. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and Blaise writhed under his touch, desperately seeking some friction on his cock. He reached up and brought Neville’s face down to his own, crushing their lips together, tongues exploring eager mouths. Neville was now atop him, grinding his groin into Blaise’s, providing that delicious friction Blaise was after. He groaned loudly as he felt Neville’s erection rubbing against his through the layers of fabric, and heat pooled in his groin. But he wanted more. He needed to feel skin against skin before they both lost control. He slid his hands down Neville’s body and tugged at the waistband to get the trousers down. Neville caught on quickly and sat back, pulling his trousers and boxers all the way off, then grinned deviously before bending forward and kissing his way slowly, deliciously down Blaise’s chest. When he reached Blaise’s boxers, he dragged them off at a torturously slow pace, his breath tickling through the dark thatch of hair at Blaise’s groin. With the underwear removed, Neville leaned forward and licked a stripe along the length of Blaise’s cock, from root to tip, then proceeded to suck him off. Blaise threw his head back in pleasure and groaned deeply. He’d been sucked off by girls before but this was an entirely different experience. He didn’t have the time or brainpower to analyse the hows and whys though as he felt the pressure grow and knew he was moments away from decorating the back of Neville’s throat. He pushed on Neville’s head, while trying to vocalise that he was about to lose it, but Neville just smirked and devoured his cock with renewed vigour.

“Ngh, Nev, I’m gonna…” And then it hit him, his orgasm crashing over him like waves while Neville greedily swallowed every last drop.

Blaise felt boneless and sated, and he happily could have laid there all day. A grunt and the wet sound of slickened flesh sliding against flesh brought him back to earth and he opened eyes he didn’t remember closing. Neville was kneeling between his legs, mouth wet and lips swollen, frantically fisting his cock as he gazed at Blaise lying prone before him. As they made eye contact, Neville finally let go, spurting globs of come over Blaise’s abdomen, before collapsing beside Blaise in a boneless, heap, a satisfied grin plastered across his face.

You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” Neville said, breathlessly. Blaise grinned in response, still unable to formulate words.

As they lay beside each other, sticky and panting, Neville gathered Blaise up in his arms and pressed a gentle kiss into his temple, and Blaise couldn’t recall ever having felt so contented and safe.

The moment was broken after only a few blissful minutes when Blaise’s stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t yet eaten. They showered (a task that would have been much quicker had they gone in separately rather than together), and dressed (Blaise wearing a set of Neville’s robes, the Gryffindor emblem and colours hidden by a glamour since there was no way he was doing the walk of shame in last night's clothes even if they had been able to clean the vomit off them), then reluctantly parted ways; Neville heading straight down to the Great Hall, while Blaise went back to his room to shower and dress properly.

Blaise had kept his head down as he hurried through the Gryffindor common room, but he needn't have bothered since all the upper years were still at breakfast. Part of him wanted to get noticed so gossip would spread and people would know that Neville was off limits. A larger part of him, though, was still uneasy about coming out. Neville had reluctantly agreed that they should keep their relationship a secret, but only once Blaise had assured him that it actually was a relationship and not a one off. He grinned, remembering Neville’s face when he had hesitantly agreed that they were boyfriends. Boyfriends! He was in a relationship. Not an arrangement, or a quick shag here and there, but a relationship with actual feelings. He’d never felt like such a Hufflepuff.

~~~

Blaise spent the next few weeks in a daze. Christmas barely even registered, other than the fact that it meant two weeks of no physical contact with Neville. At school, they met in darkened corners and empty classrooms after dark, narrowly avoiding getting caught on more than one occasion. Blaise had only told Pansy and Draco about Neville, since they would have forced it out of him anyway. Neville assured him that only Potter and Finnegan knew for sure, but that Thomas, Weasley and Granger were suspicious. This was far more than Blaise was comfortable with, but since he had spent the night puking in their bathroom, it was kind of unavoidable. 

As far as he was concerned, everything was perfect, or at least as perfect as a secret relationship could be, but Blaise could tell the secrecy was wearing on Neville and he knew the Gryffindor wanted them to stop hiding their relationship. He never said anything, but he would visibly tense whenever Blaise put distance between them if other people were around. And he was very obvious in his dislike of Blaise’s continued flirting, even though Blaise had reassured him it didn’t mean anything. But he hadn't realised something was actually wrong until they had their first proper argument. In hindsight perhaps suggesting they each take a date to Hogsmeade for Valentine's was not his best idea.

It was a typically frigid evening in February, and as had become their routine, Blaise and Neville were wrapped up against the cold in the small courtyard Blaise hadn’t even been aware of until a few months previously. They sat huddled together, breath misting in the winter air, as they exchanged news and gossip, and enjoyed slow leisurely kisses with a minimal risk of interruption. Some nights would find them pressed together against the hard stone wall, hips grinding, erections rubbing through layers of clothes, or with cold hands dipping beneath waistbands, warming on hard lengths. Tonight was not one of those nights though. Tonight they spoke amiably and just enjoyed each other’s company away from the prying eyes of their well-intentioned friends. It felt safe, and comfortable, and that probably went some way to explain why Blaise had thought it a good idea to bring up his idea that they find dates to take to Hogsmeade on Valentine’s weekend. 

“Do you even want this anymore?” Neville shouted, rounding on Blaise. 

Blaise was taken aback by the force of Neville’s anger, and took a moment to gather himself before responding. He had known his suggestion probably wouldn’t go down too well, but hadn’t been prepared for the rage projected by Neville. “How can you even ask that?”

“I don't know, maybe because you can't bear to be seen in public with me, and you would rather take some random girl on a date rather than your boyfriend.”

Force of habit caused Blaise to flinch, and he immediately searched the courtyard for potential eavesdroppers despite knowing they were alone. “Shhhh! Anyone could hear you!”

Neville grabbed his hair and stood up, releasing a frustrated growl. He paced a few steps away before spinning back to face Blaise. “That's what I mean! If you're so ashamed of me, of what we are, then why are you even bothering?”

Blaise rose to meet Neville eye to eye. He knew he had been an insensitive idiot, and he knew that Neville put up with a lot from him, but he couldn’t bring himself to back down. It was as if his rational side had decided to just step back and watch while his stubborn pride took over and wrecked the only thing that made him happy. “You said you were okay with us keeping it a secret!” He shouted. “Why say that when you're clearly not?”

“Don't try and turn this on me. I’m fine with keeping it a secret for now, if that’s what you need, but I’m getting rather sick of you flirting with every pretty girl or boy who walks past. What are you trying to prove?”

“I don’t flirt with everyone, and I'm not trying to prove anything. I just…, I don't know, I guess I just don't want people to think I'm any different. You don't understand what it's like. I have a reputation to maintain”

“What's that even mean? You think it was easy for me realising that I prefer cock? That I want you, a Slytherin? That I’m not worried about what people will think?” 

Blaise decided to change tactics. He took a calming breath and let the frustration ebb away before he spoke again, softly, smoothly. “I... Nev...look, it’s no big deal. I don’t want anyone else, just you, I promise, and I’m not ashamed of us, or of being queer, but I need people to think they still have a chance with me. I’m sorry.” He reached out to Neville, to cup his face and bring him in for a kiss to seal his apology. However, Neville swatted his hand away angrily before he got close and stepped back to put more space between them.

“Was that supposed to be an apology? You want me to let you ‘date’ other people so you can maintain your reputation as what? The Hogwarts Casanova? I don’t know what I ever saw in you. Maybe I will find someone to ask to Hogsmeade. Elsie is still interested and I bet she'd go with me.”

“Fine. Good. Ask whoever the fuck you want. I could have anyone I wanted you know...” He trailed off. Neville had stormed off and disappeared through the door to the castle already, slamming the door behind him, so had clearly stopped listening. Exhaling loudly, Blaise turned and kicked the wall before marching off in the opposite direction.

~~~

“I fucked up Pans. He hates me. I think it's over.”

Blaise was lying facedown on his bed, his face buried in Pansy’s lap. She had grabbed him and dragged him up to the Boys’ dormitory upon seeing him wander dejectedly into the common room, and had spent the past hour consoling him.

“I know darling, you keep saying that. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think.” She sighed, sounding more than a little exasperated, but continued smoothing her hands over his short hair, massaging his scalp with her fingertips.

He hummed, though whether in agreement or disagreement he couldn’t have said. He let himself get carried away by the soothing motion of Pansy’s hands, and felt himself become more and more relaxed.

He had almost drifted off when Pansy broke the silence. “You know, you could perhaps try seeing things from Longbottom’s point of view. He’s managed to bag the hottest boy in school, of course he wants your full and undivided attention; it must be killing him that he can’t tell anyone.”

“He does get my full undivided attention.When we’re alone.” Blaise said indignantly. “ Not that it matters anymore.” He added sadly.

“I love you, but you really are an idiot sometimes. Yes he’s pissed at you right now, but it’s understandable. I’d be pissed too if you wanted to date someone else while seeing me. If you don’t want to lose him then stop hiding, or at the very least stop acting like you’re moments from jumping into the next available bed. That poor boy.” Pansy groaned and whacked Blaise on the shoulder. “Now look what you’ve done - I’m feeling sympathy towards a Gryffindor!”

Blaise appreciated Pansy’s attempt to cheer him up enough to offer her a small chuckle, but he still felt like shit. He knew she was right though. He imagined Neville on a date with Elsie, laughing deeply at her amusing stories, flushing shyly as she touched him, fidgeting awkwardly, eyes darkening with desire…

He shot up from the bed, startling a gasp out of Pansy “I have to find Neville.” He leapt off the bed and hurried out of the room before Pansy could utter a single world. Mind racing, full of unwelcome thoughts of Elsie touching his boyfriend, he vowed to search the castle from top to bottom until he found Neville and fixed things.

~~~

Blaise decided to search the greenhouses first. It seemed like the logical place for Neville to be sulking after their spat, but he had to beat a hasty retreat after getting scolded by Pomfrey for upsetting some bush or other by repeatedly slamming doors and shouting ‘Neville’. He hadn’t found him in the library either, or their private courtyard, and was fast running out of obvious places to look. He had decided to leave checking the Gryffindor as a last resort, since he would sooner search the whole of Hogsmeade before he hung around outside Neville’s common room like a lovesick pre-teen waiting for someone to speak to him.

After almost an hour of increasingly frantic searching, Blaise spotted Neville with a group of friends on the far side of a busy courtyard. Though exposed to the elements, the courtyard was heated with a warming charm meaning it was fairly popular with students making the most of the last dregs of February sun. He had a momentary panic at the thought of approaching Neville while he was surrounded by friends, and nearly turned on his heel and fled, but he forced himself to keep moving before he could talk himself out of it. 

His palms felt damp and he could feel his heart drumming out a rapid rhythm in his chest that thrummed throughout his body as he strode across the courtyard. Neville hadn’t seen him yet. He looked to be in the midst of telling a story, gesticulating wildly to his gathered friends, easily holding their attention and looking happy and confident as the focus of the group. Blaise felt something squirm in his chest. He really did like Neville. He wanted to be there, at Neville’s side, listening to his stories, sharing jokes. He tried to remember why he had ever thought they should keep things hidden. Why had he been so worried about what people might think if they knew he was Neville’s boyfriend; why was he concerned more about his reputation rather than his happiness. He found himself smiling as he watched Neville, the boy’s eyes bright with humour, laugh booming, smile wide as he turned to the person beside him, the person sat unacceptably close to his boyfriend, the person who until now, Blaise had not noticed.

His stomach sunk, and a wave of jealously washed over him making him dizzy with rage. His stride faltered and he came to an abrupt stop, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. He felt sick. Betrayed. Neville had already moved on, after only a couple of hours! Had he been seeing her all along? He wanted to turn and run, flee back to his dorm and stay there until graduation, but his statue like presence in the courtyard had already drawn the notice a few of the group with Neville, including Elsie, who smirked at him in a wholly un-Hufflepuff manner. She nestled herself more tightly into Neville’s side, and if there had even been a more smug individual, Blaise had yet to meet them. Neville glanced down at the girl pressing herself against him, the thread of his story lost, and turned to see what she was looking at.

“Blaise?”

Blaise stepped forward until he was within arms reach of Neville, never once taking his eyes off his. Everyone else in the courtyard dropped away. Neville was the only one who mattered. He no longer cared what anyone else thought. He was going to get Neville back. 

“Hi.” His chest felt tight and the speed at which his heart raced made him feel quite light headed. This was it. He had to find out whether things between he and Neville were irreparably broken. He cleared his throat and tried for something more coherent. 

“I wanted to apologise for what I said before, and, well, er...if you want, no.. I mean, er, I would like it very much if you would to go to Hogsmeade. With me. For, ah, Valentine’s.” 

Blaise rubbed the back of his neck with a sweaty palm, but refused to let his eyes drop from Neville’s. He swore he could feel the heat rising from his flushed cheeks and hoped it wasn’t as visible as it felt. All conversation around he and Neville had ceased and he was vaguely aware of everyone around them staring and whispering, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

After what felt like an eternity, but realistically couldn’t have been more than a minute, Neville opened his mouth to respond. Blaise was poised, ready to turn and flee the scene at the first hint of rejection, but something about the look on Neville’s face made him hold steady.

Rather than speak though, Neville burst out laughing. Not a slight chuckle, but a bent-double, struggling-for-air laugh. Blaise narrowed his eyes, perplexed by the display. He started to edge back, ready to make a run for it, but Neville clapped a hand on his shoulder and prevented him from moving.

“Sorry! Sorry.” He managed, in between gasps as his laughter subsided. “I just...is this real?” 

“You really think I would do this for some elaborate prank?” Blaise glared at him, still expecting rejection, but standing defiant nonetheless. Neville grinned, shaking his head, and dragged Blaise into a hug, his face pressed into the crook of Blaise’s neck. After a few short moments, he drew back, his hands still on Blaise’s shoulders, their faces only a couple of inches apart.

“Yes. Yes, of course I’ll go to Hogsmeade with you, you beautiful idiot.” Blaise blinked uncomprehendingly a few times, then couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face as realisation sunk in. He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Neville’s before he even had a chance to think about what he was doing, and brought his arms up to encircle Neville’s waist. Neville pushed back into the kiss, his tongue warring for dominance with Blaise’s, and he pressed their bodies closer.

“What the ever loving fuck!? Is no-one else seeing this?” Weasley’s exclamation successfully broke the moment, and the two boys reluctantly parted. Neville turned sheepishly to face his friends who weren't even trying to conceal their stares. He grabbed Blaise’s hand, entwined their fingers, and gave the Slytherin a brief reassuring smile. Blaise smiled back, then glared defiantly at the, largely perplexed, group of students. Finnegan and Potter grinned widely, clearly amused by the whole spectacle.

“In case it wasn’t obvious, Nev and I are together. If anyone has a problem with it, they can fuck right off.” He watched the group suspiciously, daring anyone to speak up against them. 

“So, ah, yeah, my boyfriend, Blaise, everyone.” Neville grinned fondly at him, 

The silence stretched between the group, eyes darting between Blaise and Neville and their joined hands. All of a sudden, like a dam breaking, everyone spoke at once.  
“About time!”  
“Are you for real?”  
“How did none of you see this coming?”  
“Come on, they've been shagging for weeks!”  
“You're gay?” 

Blaise stood still, feeling ever so slightly bewildered. Even though relations between Slytherins and the other houses had greatly improved, helped immensely by Draco and Potter taking up with each other, he had still expected some resistance to yet another war hero falling for a snake. Aside from the shock though, the reception from Neville’s friends was overwhelmingly positive. He glanced at his boyfriend, who was beaming, hand gripping his tightly. As Blaise scanned the group, he caught sight of Elsie and felt a surge of petty joy at seeing her sour expression. He sent her his best haughty smirk and pulled Neville in closer to his side.

Later that night, snuggled up next to Neville in an armchair in the Gryffindor common room, Blaise felt things really were perfect now.

END

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Concrit welcomed.


End file.
